IC-NRLF 


B    3    7Efi 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 
SANTA    CRUZ 


Presented  in  Memory  of 


TREE-TOP  MORNINGS 


TREE-TOP  MORNINGS 


By 

ETHELWYN  WETHERALD 


THE  CORNHILL  PUBLISHING  CO. 
BOSTON 


Copyright  1921 
By  THE  CORNHILL  PUBLISHING  CO. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


TO  DOROTHY. 

One  bright  morning  a  year  ago,  when  I  said 
Good-bye  in  a  Run-along-now-as-I-am-very-busy 
tone  of  voice,  you  turned  to  me  with  tears  ex- 
claiming :  "When  you  send  me  off  to  school  with- 
out one  happy  word  it  makes  my  feelings  feel 
bad !"  And  so  My  Dorothy — My  Little  Heart — 
I  am  inscribing  all  these  happy  words  to  you,  in 
the  hope  that  they  will  make  your  feelings  feel 
good. 

ETHELWYN  WETHERALD. 


CONTENTS 

Page 

TREE-TOP  MORNINGS i 

THE  WISE  FROGS 2 

SOMEBODY'S  BIRTHDAY 3 

THE  ORPHAN  DRAKE 4 

THE  LAUGHING  CROW 5 

APPLE  BLOSSOM  TIME 6 

FOUR  CLASSES  OF  CHILDREN 7 

THE  SKIPPING  ROPE  GIRL 8 

REAL  CHICKENHEARTEDNESS 9 

UNDER  THE  APPLE  TREE 10 

A  MENTAL  FAMILY  TREE n 

GOING  TO  THE  COUNTRY    ......  13 

TASTES  DIFFER 14 

THE  WHITY  PINKY  PIG 15 

A  DEVOTED  MOTHER 16 

THE  NAUGHTY  PARROT 17 

THE  RAIN-PIPE  AND  THE  ROOF  .     .     .     .  18 

ALL  OUTDOORS  .     .     .  /'H  •  L     .     .     .     .  19 

vil 


CONTENTS 

Page 

BY  SEA  AND  LAKE 20 

THE  WARNING 21 

WHEN  DIMPLEFEET  WAS  CUPID  ....  22 

IN  THE  WATER 23 

HELPING  A  LITTLE 25 

SONG  OF  A  SPOON 26 

+    THE  CHEERFUL  DUCKS 27 

WHEN  TEDDY  WENT  TO  THE  WOODS  ...  28 

PUSSY'S  LESSON 29 

A  LITTLE  CITY  CHILD  .......  30 

DOLL'S  SLUMBER  SONG      ......  31 

THE  CICADA      .     'WZ  *.&  s£  .  >     .     .  32 

LITTLE  MILLIONAIRES 33 

THE  SNAPPING  TURTLE 34 

A  FUNNY  CHILD 35 

A  RHYMING  MOTHER 36 

PLAIN  JANE      .     .  ^ft\  < .     .     .     .     .  37 

PLAYING  TAME  BEAR 38 

LITTLE  JOE  AND  THE  ENGLISH  LANGUAGE  .  39 

THE  BABY  WHO  WAS  THREE-FOURTHS  GOOD  40 

THE  LEAVES 41 

THE  LOST  MAPLE 42 

viil 


CONTENTS 

Page 

PROFESSOR  GOODFELLOW 43 

TOMMY'S  PREDICAMENT 44 

WHEN  OUR  CHEESE  Is  DONE      ....  45 

WELCOME  HOME 47 

THE  FOLLOWERS 48 

A  BIG  BEDTIME 49 

GOING  A- NUTTING 5° 

THE  DRIVER 51 

OUR  OLD  FRIEND 52 

WHEN  FATHER  Is  IT 53 

THE  BABY'S  PHOTOGRAPH 54 

A  NARROW  ESCAPE 55 

THE  FIVE  PAIR  OF  TWINS 56 

THANKSGIVING 58 

No,  No,  NOVEMBER 59 

A  COUNTRY  GIRL'S  GIFTS 60 

OUR  VALENTINES 61 

IN  FALLING  SNOW 62 

GRACIE'S  VALENTINE 63 

A  LOVELY  TIME 65 


TREE-TOP  MORNINGS 


TREE-TOP  MORNINGS. 

How  I  like  the  tree-top  mornings  in  the  early 

early  spring! 

There's  a  steady  sound  of  roaring, 
Like  a  score  of  rivers  pouring, 
Or  a  hundred  giants  snoring, 
Or  a  thousand  birds  up-soaring. 
There's  a  rattle  as  of  battle  and  a  sort  of  splen- 
did swing 
Of  the  branches  and  the  curtains  and  almost  of 

everything. 

Oh,  I  love  the  tree-top  mornings  in  the  early 
early  spring! 

Oh,  what  fun  on  tree-top  mornings  in  the  early 

early  spring, 

When  the  wind  is  loud  as  thunder, 
And  it  snaps  the  boughs  asunder, 
And  it  lifts  you  up  from  under, 
Just  to  run  zig-zag  and  wonder 
At  the  hurry  and   the   scurry  that   such   windy 

mornings  bring, 

At  the  flapping  and  the  slapping  of  the  clothes- 
line on  the  wing ! 

Oh,  I  love  the  tree-top  mornings   in  the   early, 
early  spring! 


THE  WISE  FROGS. 

Early  in  the  spring,  with  the  wind  on  my  cheek, 
I  went  to  the  pond  an  old  friend  to  seek. 
"Old  Friend  Frog,  what's  the  weather  like? 

Speak!" 

Then  a  voice  responded  very  low  and  weak : 
"Still  rather  bleak,  still  rather  bleak; 
Bu-bu-bu-bl-eak,  bu-bu-bu-bl-eak." 

Later  in  the  spring,  with  only  just  a  few 

Of  my  frog  acquaintances,  I  said,  "How  do  you 

do? 

Pleasant  weather  this,  and  a  very  pleasant  view, 
And  isn't  that  a  lovely-looking  sky?"     "Quite 

true. 

Very  pretty  blue,  very  pretty  blue ; 
Bu-bu-bu-bl-ue,  bu-bu-bu-bl-ue." 

Warm  grew  the  nights,  and  loud  as  a  loom 
Floated  all  the  water  voices  up  to  my  room. 
"Tell  me  of  the  earth,"  I  whispered  through  the 

gloom. 
"Is  it  full  of  flowers?"    They  answered  with  a 

boom, 

"Full,  full  of  bloom,  full,  full  of  bloom, 
Bu-bu-bu-bl-oom,  bu-bu-bu-bl-oom." 


SOMEBODY'S  BIRTHDAY. 

This  is  somebody's  birthday, 

Just  as  sure  as  fate; 
Some  little  girl  is  five  today, 

Some  little  boy  is  eight; 
Some  little  child  is  three  today, 

Some  older  one  thirteen ; 
Some  little  twins  are  precisely  two — 

Two  apiece  I  mean. 

Someone  is  eating  birthday  cake, 

And  picking  out  the  plums ; 
Someone  is  counting  her  birthday  dolls 

On  all  her  fingers  and  thumbs ; 
Someone  is  bouncing  his  birthday  ball, 

Or  winding  her  birthday  watch ; 
Someone  is  not  too  wise  or  tall 

For  birthday  butter  scotch. 

Think  of  the  scores  of  birthday  gifts, 

Think  of  the  birthday  cheer, 
Think  of  the  birthday  happiness, 

Every  day  of  the  year; 
Every  day  of  the  year,  my  dear, 

Every  day  we're  alive, 
Some  happy  child  is  one  or  two 

Or  three  or  four  or  five. 


THE  ORPHAN  DRAKE. 

My  orphan  drake  is  two  weeks  old, 

And  a  terrible  bother  is  he. 

Though  cheerful  and  bright  the  truth  must  be 
told 

That  he's  too  fond  of  me. 

When  I  go  to  the  cellar  he  runs  to  the  top 

Of  the  stairs  and  loudly  peeps, 
When  I  go  to  the  garret  he'll  never  stop 

Till  he  follows  by  jumps  and  leaps. 

When  I  go  for  a  walk  he  nearly  kills 

Himself  keeping  up  with  me; 
So  I  have  to  carry  him  over  the  hills, 

For  he  is  so  little,  you  see. 

He  clings  so  close  when  I'm  reading  that 

I  wish  he  would  learn  to  swim ; 
And  I  fear  some  day  the  family  cat 

Will  put  a  finish  to  him. 

The  moral  is,  "Never  tag,"  for  though 

It  makes  the  young  heart  ache 
To  suffer  unwanted,  Tis  better  so 

Than  to  be  a  goose  of  a  drake. 


THE  LAUGHING  CROW. 

There  was  once  a  crow  who  seemed  to  know 
That  precisely  the  very  best  time  to  go 
For  corn  was  when  it  began  to  grow. 
And  into  this  business  he  used  to  throw 
Great  zeal  and  his  laugh  would  overflow 

Into  haw,  haw,  haw,  and  caw,  caw,  caw ! 

Which  means  ha,  ha !  and  ho,  ho,  ho ! 

Said  the  farmer,  "No,  my  ancient  foe, 
I  can't  kill  you  with  an  arrow  and  bow ; 
I'll  trap  you  instead,"  which  he  did  and  so 
The  bird  was  brought  to  the  house  to  show 
To  the  boys  and  girls,  who  shouted  "Oh," 

With  a  haw,  haw,  haw,  and  a  caw,  caw,  caw ! 

And  they  chuckled,  "Ha,  ha!  You  are  caught, 
ho,  ho!" 

Now  this  mischievous  crow  is  as  tame  as  though 
He  had  never  been  wild  six  months  ago. 
He  romps  with  the  children  in  falling  snow, 
Or  sits  with  them  when  the  hearth  is  aglow. 
He  plays  some  tricks,  for  he  isn't  slow, 
And  they  laugh  together  aloud  or  low, 

With  a  haw,  haw,  haw,  and  a  caw,  caw  caw, 
caw! 

And  a  ha,  ha,  ha  and  a  ho,  ho,  ho ! 


APPLE  BLOSSOM  TIME. 

Spring  time,  sing  time,  let  us  make  a  ring  rhyme, 
Dancing  down  the  orchard  path  in  a  bird-on- 

wing  time. 

May  dews  are  pearlier,  May  branches  burlier, 
And  the  little  school-bound  feet  early  start  and 

earlier, 

So  as  to  have  a  long  time,  and  a  sunny  song  time 
Ere  we  reach  the  schoolhouse  door,  nine  o'clock 

and  gong  time. 

Longer  will  the  morns  be  and  full  of  jubilation, 
When  the  harvest  apples  drop  in  the  glad  vaca- 
tion. 

May  time,  play  time,  don't  we  have  a  gay  time 
Underneath  the  orchard  boughs  at  the  close  of 

daytime ! 

Busy  lips  chattering,  pink  blooms  scattering, 
On  the  lifted  face  and  hands  now  we  feel  them 

spattering ; 
Then  with  hearts   as    feather-light,   tripping  off 

together,  quite 
Like  a  pair  of  birds,  so  happy  are  we  in  this 

weather  bright. 

Fairer  will  the  days  be  and  full  of  jubilation, 
When  the  peaches  color  up  in  the  glad  vacation. 


FOUR  CLASSES  OF  CHILDREN. 

The  children  born  in  winter-time 
Are  bright  as  the  stars  in  a  frosty  clime. 
Bright  as  the  ice  on  a  moon-lit  lea, 
Bright  as  the  gleam  of  a  Christmas  tree. 
And  what  you  will  notice  about  them  all, 

Wherever  you  have  found  them, 
Is  that  they're  not  only  bright  themselves — 

They  brighten  the  lives  around  them. 

The  children  born  in  the  time  of  spring 
Mirth  and  happiness  with  them  bring. 
Cheery  as  crickets,  blithe  as  a  rill, 
Light  as  the  breeze  that  is  never  still. 
Gay  as  the  robin's  earliest  song, 

Though  chilly  winds  may  flout  them. 
And  then,  they're  not  only  glad  themselves — 

They  gladden  the  lives  about  them. 

The  summer  children  are  good  and  sweet, 
Sweet  as  berries  and  good  as  wheat, 
Sweet  as  the  breath  of  a  clover  place, 
Sweet  as  a  breeze  to  a  sun-burned  face. 
With  voices  sweet  as  the  sound  of  streams, 

How  pleasant  it  is  to  hear  them ! 
And  then  they're  not  only  sweet  themselves — 

They  sweeten  the  lives  that  are  near  them. 

The  autumn  children  are  clever  indeed. 
They  love  to  study,  to  think  and  read. 
They  walk  in  the  empty  woodland  vast, 
And  think  of  the  future  and  think  of  the  past. 
I've  noticed  it  over  and  over  again, 

And  mentioned  it  to  their  mothers, 
The  autumn  children  are  thinkers  themselves 

And  VERY  thoughtful  of  others. 
7 


THE  SKIPPING  ROPE  GIRL. 

There  was  once  a  child  who  used  to  skip 

Seventy  times  without  a  slip, 

Nip-etty  trip  at  a  regular  clip, 

In  her  shiny  shoes  with  a  laugh  on  her  lip ; 

Over  her  head  and  shoulder  and  hip 

Up  went  the  rope  and  down  it  would  dip, 

And  people  would  say,  "She's  as  smart  as  a  whip, 

She'll  be  a  good  worker  and  that's  a  safe  tip." 

BUT 

Ask  her  to  weed  the  onion  bed 
Or  bring  an  armful  of  wood  from  the  shed, 
Or  set  the  table  or  cut  the  bread, 
Or  amuse  her  baby  brother  Fred, 
Or  do  her  work  with  a  willing  tread, 
Then,  oh  then  she  would  hang  her  head 
And  move  as  though  she  was  nearly  dead. 

Now  if  you  were  this  child  that  I  used  to  know, 

You,  I  am  sure,  would  never  act  so, 

But  would  make  the  work  like  a  skipping  rope 

go> 

Never  too  fast  and  never  too  slow. 
Nip-etty  clip  with  heel  and  toe, 
Hands  that  swift  and  skillful  grow, 
Laughing  lip  and  a  cheek  aglow, 
And  work  would  vanish  like  April  snow. 


REAL  CHICKENHEARTEDNESS. 

A  chicken  aged  less  than  a  day 
And  as  large  as  a  dandelion  puff, 
Concluded  that  he  had  had  enough 
Of  unhatched  eggs  and  a  nest  of  hay, 
So  scrambling  out  near  a  horse's  heels, 
He  began  at  once  to  scratch  for  his  meals. 

The  unhatched  chicks  neath  their  broken  roofs, 
Called  out,  "Beware  of  those  awful  hoofs." 
But  the  elder  brother  replied,  "My  dears, 
'Tis  only  eggs  that  are  troubled  by  fears. 
The  chicken  of  genuine  force  and  worth 
Is  afraid  of  nothing  on  the  earth." 


UNDER  THE  APPLE  TREE. 

A  little,  little  girl  and  a  big,  big  tree 
Can  have  a  lot  of  fun  in  blossom  weather. 

When  the  rosy  branches  bend, 

She  readily  can  send 

For  her  very  dearest  friend, 

And  the  two  of  them  may  spend, 
With  a  numerous  and  interesting  dolly  family, 

A  leafy,  branchy,  blossomy, 

Dilly  dally,  dolor  free, 

Pleasant,  pretty,  perfumy, 

Pinky  time  together. 

A  little,  little  boy  and  a  big,  big  tree 

Can  have  some  fun  in  harvest-apple-weather. 

When  the  fruit  is  ripe  and  sweet, 

He  can  go  with  Dick  and  Pete 

To  a  comfortable  seat, 

Nicely  shaded  from  the  heat, 
With  some  minutes    for    refreshments    and    for 
mirth  and  jollity, 

And  a  hearty,  happy,  hammocky, 

Breezy,  blithe  and  banquety, 

Joyous,  juicy,  junkety 
Time  they'll  have  together. 

Some  little,  little  folks  and  some  big,  big  trees 
Can  have  a  lot  of  fun  in  windy  weather. 

When  the  leaves  are  on  the  ground, 

All  the  little  children  round 

Rake  them  up  into  a  mound ; 

Then  you  hear  a  scratching  sound, 
And  puff!  the  leaves  are  crackling  and  roaring 
cheerily. 

And  a  noisy,  boysy,  rollicky, 

Girly,  whirly,  fancy-free, 

Flickering  flaming,  skylarky 

Time  they  have  together ! 
10 


A  MENTAL  FAMILY  TREE. 


We  were  talking  in  the  schoolyard  about  our 
family  trees, 

And  Gertrude  said  hers  could  be  traced  to  Sir 
Horatio  Freeze; 

And  Rufe  said  he'd  descended  from  the  gover- 
nor of  a  state ; 

And  Louie  mentioned  ancestors  of  hers  about  as 
great, 

While  Reggie  said  his  lineage  embraced  a  lord, 
he  knew ; 

And  Nell  from  her  great-great-grandsire  ob- 
tained her  blood  so  blue; 

But  neither  of  the  little  Smiths  could  say  a 
single  word ; 

For  them  to  boast  their  ancient  name  of  course 
would  be  absurd. 


Then  teacher,  smiling  slightly,  said  that  she  was 

much  inclined 
To  think  that  there  was  such  a  thing  as  blue  blood 

of  the  mind ; 
That   those   who   studied   hard    (and   here   she 

beamed  on  Tommy  Smith) 
Had  certainly  descended  from  men  of  force  and 

pith; 
And  those  who  loved  to  tend  the  sick  and  serve 

the  weak  and  frail 

Were  morally  related   to   Florence   Nightingale. 
11 


(Here  Jennie  Smith  blushed  to  the  ears).  And 
when  she  saw  a  youth 

(How  bright  she  smiled  at  Johnny  Smith!)  who 
always  told  the  truth 

At  school,  at  home,  or  when  he  was  at  work  or 
having  fun 

She  knew  him  for  a  relative  of  General  Washing- 
ton. 


But  Reggie  doesn't   like   such  talk;  he  says  it 

seems  to  throw 
So  much  responsibilty  upon  yourself,  you  know. 


12 


GOING  TO  THE  COUNTRY. 

We  are  going  to  the  country,  come  along  my 
happy  child ; 

Through  this  breezy,  easy  summer  you're  to  run 
a  trifle  wild. 

Bring  your  flaxen  ,  waxen  dollies  and  your  dear- 
est, queerest  one, 

And  your  little,  brittle  dishes,   and  your  saucy 
squirrel  Bun. 

Put  your  tiny,  shiny  slippers  on  your  agile,  fra- 
gile feet, 

Wash  your  rosy,   posy  fingers   till  they're  very 
clean  and  neat. 

Stop  to  pop  into  the  lightest  and  the  brightest  of 
your  frocks, 

Tie  your  ramble-bramble  hat  upon  your  blowing 
flowing  locks. 

Get  the  ticket  at  the  wicket  where  the  bags  and 
trunks  are  piled, 

For  we're  going  to  the  country, — Come  along  my 
happy  child. 


13 


TASTES  DIFFER. 

"If  you  would  only  be  gentle  and  kind," 

Said  our  little  kitty  one  day, 

"And  always  speak  low,  and  move  rather  slow, 
How  pleasantly  then  we  should  play ! 

For  cat  rhymes  with  mat, 

And  with  afternoon  chat, 

And  a  little  love-pat; 

So  don't  forget  that 
If  you  would  only  be  gentle  and  kind, 

And  smooth  my  fur  just  the  right  way, 
And  call  me  some  pet  name,  you'd  certainly  find 

How  pleasantly  then  we  should  play." 

"If  you  were  only  a  livelier  child," 
Said  our  puppy,  Ravels, — called  Rav, — 

"And  would  hop,  skip  and  jump 

Over  bush,  snag  and  stump, 
What  a  glorious  time  we  should  have! 

For  dog  rimes  with  log, 

And  with  loud-splashing  frog, 

Or  a  twenty-mile  jog 
Through  a  nice  muddy  bog ; 
So  if  you  were  only  a  livelier  child, 

And  would  call  out,  Here,  Ravels ;  Come  Rav ! 
And  then  dash  off  and  prance  through  the  wild- 
erness wild, 

What  a  glorious  time  we  should  have!" 


14 


THE  WHITY  PINKY  PIG. 

Arthur  was  a  doctor 

And  travelled  in  a  gig, 
Edgar  was  a  learned  judge 

And  wore  a  gown  and  wig. 
Fred  was  a  comedian 

And  danced  a  funny  jig, 
And  Ernest  was  a  farmer, 

With  a  whity  pinky  pig ; 
A  whity  pinky,  sharp  and  slinky 

Little  blinky  pig. 

Edith  was  a  mamma, 

With  a  waxen  baby  big, 
Lucy  was  a  florist, 

Who  planted  out  a  twig, 
Nellie  as  a  grocer  sold 

An  apple  and  a  fig ; 
And  all  would  have  been  happy 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  pig, 
That  pinky  whity,  small  and  mighty, 

Queer  and  flighty  pig. 

He  gobbled  up  the  groceries, 

He  rooted  up  the  twig, 
The  doctor's  pony  Rover 

Ran  at  him  and  broke  the  gig ; 
He  tangled  up  the  learned  judge 

Until  he  dropped  his  wig, 
And  he  stole  the  baby's  cookies, 

Did  that  whity  pinky  pig  ; 
That  whity  pinky,  quick  as  winky, 

Swim-or-sinky  pig. 


15 


A  DEVOTED  MOTHER. 

If  I  had  a  little  sick  dolly, 

I  know  what  I  should  do ; 
I  would  tend  it  with  care,  and  give  it  fresh  air, 

And  go  to  the  doctor's  too. 
And  then  if  the  doctor  should  hand  me 

Some  candy  pills  from  the  shelf, 
And  dolly  said,  "Oh,  I  can't  take  them— no !" 

I'd  swallow  them  all  myself. 
For  you  know,  of  course,  I  could  never  use  force, 

So  I'd  swallow  them  all  myself. 

Yes,  I  am  a  careful  young  mother, 

When  dollies  are  sick  and  weak, 
I  forbid  them  to  walk,  I  don't  let  them  talk, 

Nor  even  permit  them  to  speak. 
In  winter  I  give  them  a  straw  ride, 

Well  wrapped  up  is  each  little  elf, 
And  smiling  to  see  with  what  vigor  and  glee 

I  am  skipping  and  singing  myself. 
The  unselfish  and  good  and  wise  mother  should 

Do  the  skipping  and  singing  herself. 


16 


THE  NAUGHTY  PARROT.  x'  ^ 

Once  there  was  a  little  girl  who  spent  the  sum- 
mer days 

With  sheep  and  cows  and  pigeons  and  horses  out 
to  graze, 

And  other  gentle  comrades.  They  all  had  pleas- 
ant ways, 

Except  a  horrid  parrot  with  a  green  and  yellow 
head, 

Who  never  made  polite  remarks,  but  always 
moaned  instead, 

"Oh,  ah  wah,  ah,  hoop  bah,  I  don't  want  to  go 
to  bed!" 

Now  all  these  other  animals  were  very  very  good. 
They  neighed  or  they  brayed  or  they  crowed  or 

purred  or  mooed, 
They  barked  or  they  bleated  or  they  quacked  or 

clucked  or  cooed. 
But   still   that  hateful   parrot,   he   drooped   his 

gaudy  head, 

And  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  he  dolorously  said, 
"Oh,  ah,  wah,  ah,  hoop  bah,  I  don't  want  to  go 

to  bed!" 


17 


THE  RAIN-PIPE  AND  THE  ROOF. 

Pitter,  patter,  says  the  roof;  pitter,  patter  pat! 

The  water  through  the  rainpipe  is  slinking  like  a 
cat. 

Hurry,  scurry !  calls  the  roof ;  the  drops  are  com- 
ing thick ; 

And  then  we  hear  the  pipe  go,  trick-a-lick-a-lick ! 

Rattle-battle!   cries  the  roof,   rattle-battle-rush! 

Slusha-gusha !  goes  the  pipe,  slusha-flusha-gush ! 

Roaring,  pouring!  shouts  the  roof,  and  harder 
comes  the  roar; 

Close  up  all  the  windows,  and  fasten  tight  the 
door. 

Springing  from  the  eave  trough  with  a  splash- 
ing sound, 

See  the  merry  water  jumping  to  the  ground ! 

Slower,  lower,  chimes  the  roof,  rinka,  tanka, 
tink! 

Urgle,  gurgle,  says  the  pipe ;  tinka,  linka,  link ! 

Pitter,  patter !  says  the  roof ;  pitter,  patter  pat. 

Tinka-link,  the  rain  pipe,  ticka,  licka — spat! 


18 


ALL  OUTDOORS.   v  - 

When  I  went  to  the  sea  shore 

I  thought  I'd  better  take 
My  picture  blocks  and  painting  box, 

My  wooden  duck  and  drake, 
My  cardboard  bird  that  whistles, 

My  train  of  cars,  my  Ted, 
My  Mother  Goose,  my  china  Moose, 

My  tin  horn  painted  red. 
But  when  I  got  to  Grandpa's 

He  said,  "  These  sandy  shores 
Won't  let  you  play  with  anything 

But  All  Outdoors." 

My  Teddy  bear  is  in  the  trunk 

My  Indian  hatchet  quaint, 
My  Noah's  Ark,  the  picture  park 

I  just  began  to  paint, 
My  ball  and  top,  my  marbles, 

My  rocking-horse  and  whip, 
My  auto-car  that  winds  up 

And  goes  biz-zook,  gaz-zip, 
Are  still  unpacked,  for  since  I  came 

I  find  a  hundred  stores 
Can't  hold  so  many  playthings 

As  All  Outdoors. 


19 


BY  SEA  AND  LAKE. 

Twenty  thousand  horses 

Galloping  abreast, 
Hard  hoofs  hammering, 

Foam  on  the  crest ; 
Thunderous,  clamorous, 

Eager  for  the  fray — 
That  is  how  the  waves  seemed 

By  the  sea  today. 

Twenty  little  babies 

Learning  how  to  creep, 
Soft  voices  whispering 

Nearly  half  asleep; 
Murmuringly,  lullingly, 

Lapped  in  slumber  light — 
That  is  how  the  waves  sound 

By  the  lake  tonight. 


20 


THE  WARNING. 

Once  our  little  Benny  went  to  steal  a  robin's  nest, 
It  was  a  hot  and  darksome  day  with  black  clouds 

in  the  west. 
And  just  as  he  had  climbed  the  tree  and  had  the 

nest  down  bent, 
There  came  a  sudden  thunder  storm,  and  here's 

the  way  it  went : 

B-r-roar,  gr-r-roar,  bad  lad,  bang ! 
Cr-rack,  is  it  back  ?  Flash,  whack,  bang ! 
Grumble-rumble-bumble-dumble,     put     it     back 

before  you  tumble, 
Cr-rack,  put  it  back, 
Flash,  crash,  bang! 

Oh,  my,  how  shaky  felt  his  legs  and  oh  how 

queer  his  head, 
He  put  the  nest  back  in  its  place  and  off   for 

home  he  sped. 
A  rushing  wind  pursued  him,  the  rain  upon  him 

poured, 
And  in  his  startled  ears  the  thunder  ripped  and 

tore  and  roared : 

Br-r-owl,  g-r-rowl,  bad  lad,  bang ! 
Cr-rack,  is  it  back  ?  Flash,  whack  bang ! 
Yes,  you've  had  the  best  of  luck,  sir, 
Or  you  surely  had  been  struck,  sir, 
Hear  me,  Ben, 
Never  again ! 
Crash,  flash,  bang! 


21 


WHEN  DIMPLEFEET  WAS  CUPID. 

When  Dimplefeet  was  Cupid 

His  markmanship  was  fine; 
His  bow  was  made  of  willow  branch, 

His  arrows  all  of  pine. 
And  first  he  sent  an  arrow  straight 

At  mamma's  dress  of  blue. 
"That  means  you're  sweet,"  said.  Dimplefeet, 

"And  somebody  loves  you." 

And  then  he  aimed  at  Grandma's  shoes. 

Oh,  mercy,  how  she  jumped! 
Her  cheek  it  turned  from  pale  to  red, 

Her  heart  it  thumped  and  thumped. 
She  caught  the  boy  and  kissed  him  well, 

Then  as  away  he  flew, 
"That   means    you're    sweet,"    said    Dimplefeet, 

"And  somebody  loves  you." 

And  then  when  Katie  went  to  hang — 

Her  towels  on  the  hedge, 
He  crept  up  close  and  took  good  aim 

And  hit  her  apron's  edge. 
"That  means  you're  sweet,"  cried  Dimplefeet, 

"If  all  the  signs  are  true!" 
"Tis  you  that's  swate,"  said  Irish  Kate, 

"And  everyone  loves  you." 


22 


IN  THE  WATER. 


Come  ahead  Jim,  I'll  show  you  how  to  swim, 
Dive  into  a  deep  place  and  hold  your  head  up  so ; 
Push  your  arms  out  this  way  and  kick  back  with 

a  vim, 
Keep  your  nose  above  the  wave  and  then  away 

you  go, 
While  we   all   shout  aloud,   Oh,   we're  a  jolly 

crowd, 
As  we're    splashing,    dashing,    slashing    in    the 

water. 


Don't  be  afraid,  Bess  will  lend  her  aid, 

I  will  hold  your  chest  up  and  Marjorie  your  chin, 

Walt  and  Ben  will  follow  close  as  further  out  we 

wade, 
And  all  of  us  will  rush  to  you  if  you  should 

tumble  in ; 
You'd  hear  my  orders  then,  To  the  rescue  quick, 

my  men, 
And  we'd  bear  you  choking,  soaking  from  the 

water. 


Tom,  Jack  and  May,  I'll  tell  you  what  to  play; 
Play  that  you  are  porpoises  and  I  will  be  a  whale ; 
I'll  move  in  stately  splendor  while  you  sport 

about  my  way, 
And  then  I'll  dash  against  you  like  a  ship  against 

a  gale, 
While  you  all  raise  a  shout  and  spatter  foam 

about, 

As  we're  rushing,  crushing,  slushing  in  the  water. 
23 


That's  splendid,  Jim,  You'll  soon  learn  to  swim, 
Isn't  this  by  far  the  greatest  fun  you  ever  had? 
Those  fellows  on  the  shore  are  coming  with  a 

roar 
And  kicking  up  the  cold  waves  and  spluttering 

like  mad. 

Hey,  boys,  hullo !  We're  singing  as  we  go, 
And  laughing,  chaffing,  quaffing,  in  the  water. 


HELPING  A  LITTLE. 

When  the  days  are  hot  and  growing  hotter, 
And  earth  is  dry  as  a  wornout  blotter, 
When  the  grass  is  crisp  and  the  sky  is  copper, 
And  more  than  a  burden  is  each  grasshopper, 
When  the  shrill  cicada's  red-hot  voice  is 
A  note  at  which  no  heart  rejoices, 
When  at  every  crack  the  dust  is  sifting, 
And  gasping  hens  their  wings  are  lifting, 
I  like  to  think  of  the  deep  snow  drifting, 
Of  frost-bound  pond  and  icicles  brittle: 
It  helps  a  little. 

When  out  on  the  path  the  step  is  ringing, 
And  keen  as  a  whip  the  sleet  is  stinging, 
When  buffalo  robes  are  heaped  to  the  shoulder, 
And  the  cold  moon  makes  the  night  seem  colder, 
When  a  few  thin  leaves  on  the  beeches  shiver, 
And  dead  and  buried  and  gone  is  the  river, 
And  out  of  the  north  the  flakes  are  flying, 
I  like  to  think  of  the  new  hay  lying, 
Of  summer  airs  in  the  branches  sighing, 
Of  the  hammock  at  noon  where  I  lounge  or 
whittle : 

It  helps  a  little. 


25 


SONG  OF  A  SPOON. 

There  was  once  a  bright  little  spoon 

On  a  breakfast  table  in  June, 

Who  sang  this  sad  little  tune : 

"I've  been  thrown  down  with  a  dash  and  a 

frown 

When  I  tried  to  get  up  to  Redlip  town, 
And  the  words  outflung  by  Mr.  Tongue 
Were  the  fretful  kind  that  can't  be  sung." 

And  the  thing  that  I  tried  to  say 

Was  oh,  what  a  dreadful  way 

That  was  to  begin  the  day. 

But  the  very  next  morn  in  June 
I  heard  the  bright  little  spoon 
Sing  this  very  different  tune : 

"From  a  silver  cup,  with  a  bite  and  a  sup 

To  Redlip  town  I  went  gayly  up ; 

And  just  at  the  chin  I  met  a  grin, 

One  came  out  as  the  other  went  in." 
And  the  thing  that  I  tried  to  say, 
Was  oh,  what  a  splendid  way 
That  was  to  begin  the  day. 


26 


THE  CHEERFUL  DUCKS 

Down  to  the  pond  when  the  weather  was  warm 
Hurried  two  ducks  at  signs  of  a  storm. 
Quack,  quack,  quack!       Splash,    splash,    splash! 
Fast  come  the  big  drops,  faster  the  flash. 
Down,  down  we  dive  at  a  big  thunder  clap. 
Up,  up  we  jump  with  a  flap,  flap,  flap! 
Waves  on  the  breast  and  rain  on  the  back, 
Water,  water,  everywhere,  quack,  quack,  quack! 

Down  to  the  pond  when  the  weather  was  cold, 
The  same  two  ducks  one  afternoon  strolled. 
Quack,  quack,  quack!    Why,  isn't  this  nice? 
A  few  drops  of  water  at  the  edge  of  the  ice. 
Paddle,  paddle  feet,  bubble,  bubble  bill, 
Spatter,  spatter,  cheerily,  flap  with  a  will. 
There  goes  a  drop  and  a  half  on  my  back, 
Isn't  it  glorious  ?  Quack,  quack,  quack ! 


27 


WHEN  TEDDY  WENT  TO  THE  WOODS. 

He  nearly  caught  a  chipmunk, 

He  nearly  stunned  an  owl, 
He  nearly  saw  a  polar  bear, 

He  nearly  heard  it  growl. 
He  nearly  killed  a  rattlesnake, 

He  nearly  felt  it  squirm, 
He  nearly  hooked  the  biggest  fish 

With  nearly  half  a  worm. 
He  nearly  walked  a  dozen  miles, 

He  very  nearly  hit 
An  eagle  sitting  in  its  nest, 

He  nearly  climbed  to  it. 
Now  if  he  nearly  did  so  much 

When  young,  it  seems  to  me, 
What  a  wonderfully  clever  man 

He'll  nearly  grow  to  be. 


28 


PUSSY'S  LESSON. 

Kitty,  kitty,  kitty, 
There's  a  squirrel  on  a  limb ; 
If  you  know  where 
Don't  you  go  there, 
Don't  you  even  glance  at  him. 
Quick  he  leaps  from  pine  to  balsam  and  along 

the  bridge  so  gay ; 

Now  you  should  look  quite  indifferent,  or  glance 
off  the  other  way. 

Kitty,  kitty,  kitty, 
There's  a  robin  near  the  eaves, 
If  you  know  it, 
Don't  you  show  it, 
Don't  you  touch  the  ivy  leaves. 
Loud  he  sings  as  though  there  weren't  a  cat  in 

this  harmonious  world, 

While  you  lap  your   cream  or  slumber   in  the 
pleasant  sunshine  curled. 

Kitty,  kitty,  kitty, 
Don't  you  know  my  duty  stern 
Is  to  train  you 
And  restrain  you, 
So  I  hope  you'll  quickly  learn 
For  a  well-fed  puss  like  you  to  murder  things  is 

wrong,  and  that 

If  you  follow  my  instructions,  I'll  be  proud  of 
you,  my  cat. 


29 


A  LITTLE  CITY  CHILD. 

He  brought  a  flower  from  the  field — 

That  little  city  child — 
And  when  they  asked  him  what  it  was, 

He  said  that  it  was  wild. 

And  when  they  asked  him  of  the  bird 
That  sang  so  sweet  and  low, 

He  said  it  was  a  robin, 
Or  perhaps  it  was  a  crow. 

And  when  the  names  of  trees  he  met 
They  begged  of  him  to  tell  'em, 

He  seemed  to  think  that  every  tree 
Was  simply  called  an  "ellum." 

The  insects  of  the  earth  or  air 

Which  every  day  he  sees, 
He  calls  when  wingless,  "funny  bugs," 

The  winged  ones  are  "bees." 

And  if  a  garter  snake  should  glide 

From  out  a  bush  or  brake, 
Twould  hear  him  shouting  far  and  wide, 

"I've  found  a  rattlsnake!" 


30 


DOLLS'  SLUMBER  SONG. 

Hushaby,  my  babies,  now  the  day  is  closing, 
All  the  tired  little  birds  are  drowsing  in  the  nest; 
Out  upon  the  lake  the  lilies  are  reposing, 
And  so  must  you,  my  little  ones,  upon  your  mam- 
ma's breast. 

S-1-e-e-p,  sleep,  sink,  sink  to  sleep — 
Claribel  and  Muriel,  Polly  and  Bo-peep. 

Hushaby,  my  dearies,  now  the  dew  is  falling, 

Over  on  the  meadow  evening  shadows  creep. 

On  the  edge  of  Slumberland  hear  your  mamma 
calling, 

"Come  my  little  family,  it's  time  to  go  to  sleep. 
S-1-e-e-p,  sleep,  sink,  sink  to  sleep— 
Claribel  and  Muriel,  Polly  and  Bo-peep." 


31 


THE  CICADA. 

When  the  sun  is  hot  and  growing  hotter, 
And  the  pond  is  dry  as  the  ink  on  a  blotter, 
When  dust  on  the  lilac  leaves  is  showing, 
And  the  grass  is  hay  before  the  mowing, 
Then  up  where  the  orchard  leaves  are  brittle, 
Comes  the  scrape  of   a  violin   sharp   and   little, 

Zeek,  Zeek, 

Creak,  creak, 
Sweet  is  the  heat  of  the  midsummer's  cheek. 

When  everything  glares  excepting  the  pine-trees, 
And  mercury  stands  tip-toe  in  the  nineties, 
When  even    the    grasshoppers,    tree-toads    and 

crickets 
Are  gasping   for  breath   in  the  meadows   and 

thickets, 

Then  he  tucks  his  fiddle  beneath  his  green  chin, 
And  screek,  screek,  goes  the  shrill  violin. 

Zeek,  zeek, 

Creak,  creak, 
Sweet  is  the  heat  of  the  weather  I  seek, 

Dear  little  fiddler,  oh,  how  I  wonder 
What  you  creep  into  or  what  you  crawl  under 
When  the  cold  rain  comes.    Small  summer-lover, 
Where  is  your  refuge  and  what  is  your  cover? 
Play  once  again  now  the  chill  days  begin, 
Weak,  weak,  goes  the  shrill  violin, 

Weak,  weak, 

Meek,  meek, 
Music  is  weak  as  the  days  grow  bleak. 


LITTLE  MILLIONAIRES. 

Twenty  little  millionaires 

Playing  in  the  sun : 
Millionaires  in  mother-love, 

Millionaires  in  fun, 
Millionaires  in  leisure  hours, 

Millionaires  in  joys, 
Millionaires  in  hopes  and  plans, 

Are  these  girls  and  boys. 

Millionaires  in  health  are  they, 

And  in  dancing  blood, 
Millionaires  in  shells  and  stones, 

Sticks  and  moss  and  mud; 
Millionaires  in  castles 

In  the  air,  and  worth 
Quite  a  million  times  as  much 

As  castles  on  the  earth. 

Twenty  little  millionaires, 

Playing  in  the  sun; 
Oh,  how  happy  they  must  be, 

Every  single  one ! 
Hardly  any  years  have  they, 

Hardly  any  cares ; 
But  in  every  lovely  thing 

Multimillionaires. 


THE  SNAPPING  TURTLE. 

A  big  snapping  turtle  came  into  our  swale, 
Like  a  dinner  plate  upside  down, 
With  his  four  little  feet  and  a  cute  head  and  tail 
And  a  breast  bone  polished  brown. 

He  snapped  on  the  end  of  a  stick  I  had 
And  you  should  have  seen  us  go ! 
A  turtle's  a  mighty  lively  lad, 
Though  some  folks  think  he's  slow. 

He  drew  his  four  little  feet  inside, 
And  then  was  ready  for  the  stunt ; 
Away  on  his  big  breast  bone  he'd  slide 
While  I  tugged  along  at  the  front. 

I  tied  some  sleigh  bells  to  the  stick 
And  merrily  they  did  sound, 
Jing-a-ling-ting  as  we  went  quick 
Over  the  stubbly  ground. 

He  couldn't  tell  me  if  he  was  hurt 
As  he'd  have  to  let  go  to  yell, 
But  I  sometimes  think  the  poor  old  turt 
Didn't  like  it  so  awfully  well. 


34 


A  FUNNY  CHILD. 

There  is  a  girl  in  our  town  and  she  is  full  of  fun, 
She  prances  and  she  dances  with   a  laugh   for 

everyone ; 
Her  eyes  are  full  of  merriment,  her  voice  is  full 

of  glee, 
And  oh,  how  happy,  happy,  you  would  think  that 

child  must  be. 

And  so  she  is  when  things  go  right,  but  oh,  when 

they  go  wrong, 
You  never  get  a  smile  from  her,  you  never  hear 

a  song ; 
But  how  I   wish   when  things   are  queer  she'd 

bring  us  mirth  and  glee, 
For  oh,  how  happy,  happy,  then  each  one  of  us 

would  be. 


35 


A  RHYMING  MOTHER. 

One  little  sister  and  one  little  brother, 
Happy  all  day  and  helping  each  other, 
And  oh,  such  a   comfort   they  were  to   their 

mother. 

And  what  do  you  think  that  nice  mother  said, 
When  she  lighted  the  candle  and  took  them  to 

bed 

And  tenderly  smoothed  each  fair  little  head? 

She  said  with  a  smile  that  was  well  worth  while, 

I  know  now  why  pearl  is  a  good  rhyme  for 

girl, 

And  I  know  now  why  joy  is  a  good  rhyme  for 
boy." 


36 


PLAIN  JANE.   / 

When  I  first  awaken,  my  mother  calls  me  Bub- 
bins, 

When  I  try  to  dress  myself  she  calls  me  Mother 
Bunch, 

When  I  rock  my  dolly  she  whispers,  "Little 
Woman!" 

And  I'm  always  Missy  Messy  when  I  spill  milk 
at  lunch. 

When  I  shout  and  scamper  she  calls  me  "Happy 
Baby," 

When  I  get  the  ear  ache  or  any  other  pain 

Warm  in  my  crib  she  tucks  me  and  pets  her 
precious  ducksy, 

But  when  I'm  very  naughty  I  am  just  plain  Jane. 

When  I  go  to  parties  she  calls  me  Popsy  Pigeon, 
When  I  start  to  Sunday  School  I  am  her  little 

lamb. 
But  oh,  I  can't  remember  all  the   funny  names 

she  gives  me, 

I  often  sit  and  wonder  what  I  really  truly  am. 
Only  just  this  morning  I  did  what  was  forbidden, 
I  played  out  in  the  puddles  and  fell  down  in  the 

rain, 
And    instead    of    saying    Lovey    or    even    little 

Dovey, 

A  voice  called  from  the  doorway, 
"Come  here  this  moment,  Jane." 


37 


PLAYING  TAME  BEAR. 

I  like  to  play  with  Mamma  best  of  anything  I  do, 
She  always  laughs  so  easy  and  gets  me  laughing 

too. 
Outside  our  games  are  Hide  and  Seek,  I  Spy,  or 

Hound  and  Hare, 
But  when  it's  raining  hard  we  play  I'm  her  tame 

bear. 
She  ties  a  rope  around  me,  I  start  to  jump  and 

prance, 
She  pulls  me  to  the  door  step  and  says,  "Dance, 

Bear,  dance!" 
And  makes  me  walk  on  all  fours  or  clamber  on 

a  chair, 
And  says,  "  Good  fellow!  whoa!  come  here,  my 

nice  tame  bear!" 

Then  suddenly  I  tug  my  rope  and  act  no  longer 

mild, 
And  mamma  says,  "I  greatly  fear  my  tame  bear's 

getting  wild." 

I  pull  her  out  into  the  hall  and  even  up  the  stair, 
She  says,  "What  shall  I  do  with  him,  my  rough 

tame  bear! 

I  hope  he  doesn't  hug  me,  I  hope  he  doesn't  bite, 
Just  hear  him  growl  and  mutter,  just  watch  him 

snarl  and  fight !" 
And  then  all  of  a   sudden   she's   in  her   rocking 

chair, 
And  gets  a  lot  of  squeezing  from  her  wild  tame 

bear. 


38 


LITTLE  JOE  AND  THE  ENGLISH 
LANGUAGE. 

When  a  blue  jay  wants  to  talk 
All  it  says  is  "squawk,  squawk;" 
When  a  cricket  tries  to  speak 
All  it  says  is  "screak,  screak;" 
When  a  crow  lays  down  the  law 
All  its  says  is  "Caw,  caw." 

And  when  you  ask  our  Joey 

If  this  or  that  is  so, 

He's  almost  sure  to  answer 

*Ho-I-oh-wo. 

Bluejays,  crickets,  crows  and  boys 
Which  makes  the  funniest  noise? 
Squawk,  screak,  caw,  ho? 

Ho-I-oh-wo. 

Dogs  bow-wow,  or  else  berp  werp, 
Hens  cluck  and  sparrows  chirp, 
Horses  neigh,  cows  moo, 
Owls  go  to  whit,  to  whoo. 

But  if  examination's  hard 

At  school,  I  wonder  why 

Joe  says,  when  asked  how  he  got  on, 

f  Ho-aw-wi ! 

Horses,  cows,  dogs  and  birds 
All  avoid  the  use  of  words. 
Joe  can  too  and  not  half  try, 

Ho-aw-wi ! 


*Usually  pronounced  Oh,  I  don't  know, 
t  Preferably  pronounced  Oh,  all  right. 


39 


THE  BABY  WHO  WAS  THREE-FOURTHS 
GOOD. 

"Now  will  you  be  good?"  said  little  Bob  Wood, 
To  his  baby  sister  Sue, 

As  he  lifted  his  hand  with  a  look  of  command, 
And  the  baby  answered  "Goo." 

"You've  sucked  Noah's  paint  till  he  looks  quite 

faint, 

And  wrecked  nearly  all  his  crew. 
Is  that  being  good?"  asked  stern  Bobby  Wood 
And  the  baby  gurgled  out  "Goo !" 

"You  mean  pretty  well,  so  seldom  you  yell, 
And  you  never  were  known  to  look  blue ; 
But  you're  not  always  good — that's  quite  under- 
stood—" 
And  the  little  one  laughed  and  said  "Goo !" 

Goo  is  three-fourths  of  good,"  said  wise  Bobby 

Wood, 

I  suppose  that's  the  best  you  can  do  ; 
But  when  you're  as  big  as  I  am,  you  sprig, 
You'll  have  to  be  good  clear  through. 


40 


THE  LEAVES. 

A  great  big  house  with  such  a  lot  of  children, 

Happy  little  children,  swinging  all  the  day, 
Swinging  and  singing,  and  whispering  together, 

Dancing  to  the  tune  that  the  merry  winds  play ; 
Hiding  the  bird's  nest,  sheltering  the  squirrel, 

Drooping  o'er  the  dormouse,  shadowing  the 

mink, 
Playing  with  the  raindrops,  sifting  the  sunbeams, 

What  a  very  busy  time  they're  having,  don't 
you  think? 

Said  the  great  tree-mothers,  "If  you  will  be  very, 

Very  very  good  the  whole  summer  through, 
All  of  you  shall  go  to  a  big  dance  in  autumn, 

Dressed  in  the  prettiest  style  you  ever  knew. 
And  after  it  is  over  and  you  begin  to  shiver, 

And  down,  down-drooping  is  each  sleepy  head, 
Won't  it  be  funny  to  see  you  all  go  skipping 

And  hopping    and    flying    and    jumping    into 
bed?" 


41 


THE  LOST  MAPLE. 

On  the  border  of  the  wood  it  beckoned  where  he 

stood — 

That  very  young  and  tiny  maple  tree. 
It  was  scarcely  one  year  old  and  its  leaves  were 

red  and  gold, 

And  he  said,  "I  think  1*11  take  it  home  with  me." 
But  while   he   went   to    play   they   softly   blew 

away — 

Those  little  red  and  yellow  leaves — and  then, 
As  it  wasn't  very  big  it  looked  just  like  a  twig, 
So  he  never  found  his  maple  tree  again. 


42 


PROFESSOR  GOODFELLOW. 

Among  the  teachers  in  our  land  and  those  from 

foreign  shores, 
Stands  forth  Professor  Goodfellow,  who  teaches 

out-of-doors. 
His  pupils  roam  the  woods  and  fields  and  ramble 

down  the  lanes, 
And  never  go   inside  at  all   excepting  when   it 

rains. 
Now  when   Professor   Goodfellow   says,    "John 

had  twenty-three 
Delicious  peaches  and  ate  five,  how  many  then 

had  he?" 
The  pupils   are  provided   with  peaches   by  the 

crate. 
And  readily  subtract  from  those  they  had  the 

ones  they  ate. 
Or  when  lie  says,  "Bound  Texas,"   ihey  board 

the  Dixie  train 
And  study  their  geography  with  all  their  might 

and  n-ain. 
And  when  he  says,  "What  is  a  noun?"     Why, 

anything  in  sight 
A  boy  or  girl  might  single  out  would  certainly 

be  right. 

The  reading  classes  read  all  day  the  book  of  Na- 
ture fair, 
The  spelling  classes  find  a  spell  in  earth  and  sky 

and  air. 

But  when  Professor  Goodfellow  finds  some  for- 
lorn abode, 

An  old  deserted  schoolhouse  beside  a  lonely  road, 
And  it  should  be  a  wet  or  cold  or  very  stormy 

day, 
He  says,  "Now  children,  school's  dismissed,  all 

run  inside  and  play !" 

• 

43 


TOMMY'S  PREDICAMENT. 

When    Tommy    learned    the    alphabet    it    took 

months  more  or  less 
To  teach  him  straight  I,  pointed  A,  round  O  and 

crooked  S. 

We  told  him  that  the  broken  O  was  called  the  let- 
ter C, 

And  that  a  table  just  in  front  turned  it  into  a  G, 
That  F  had  roof  and  door  knob  and  E  roof,  knob 

and  floor, 
H  was  a  bench  between  two  posts,  Q  had  a  path 

before ; 
P  had  a  bundle  on  his  back,  B  had  two  bundles, 

and 
T  was  a  gimlet,  Y  a  tree,   a  branch  on  either 

hand ; 

M  was  fat  N  and  W  was  simply  double  V, 
And  anyone  would  know  cross  X,  deep  U  and 

zigzag  Z ; 
R  was  K  with  a  cover  on ,  J  was  a  6  turned 

round, 
L  had  three  corners,  D  with   one   straight   line, 

one  curved  was  found. 

But  when  poor  Tommy  with  his  hard  won  know- 
ledge in  his  head 
Went  oil  to  school  he  nearly  swooned  because 

the  teacher  said, 
"It  cannot  be  your  parents  let  you  learn  such 

ancient  lore, 
We  don't  teach  little  children  their  letters  any 

more." 


44 


WHEN  OUR  CHEESE  IS  DONE. 

I  like  a  dinner  pail  that  has  some  sort  of  a  sur- 
prise, 
A  hunk  of   spicy   fruit  cake   or  two   kinds   of 

saucer  pies ; 

Some  candy  or  bananas,  a  pickled  egg  or  two, 
Or  cookies  pink  with  icing  and  thick  with  raisins 

too. 
But  oh,  this  everlasting  bread  and  jam  or  bread 

and  meat, 
It  makes  me  tired  all  over  from  my  freckles  to 

my  feet. 
So  then  I  stop  at  Uncle's  and  lean  on  the  gate 

real  hard, 
And  wait  and  wait  and  wait  and  wait  till  he 

comes  in  the  yard. 
"Our  cheese  is  done," 
I  say  to  Uncle  Ben, 
"Ours  is  just  begun," 

He  says  to  me,  and  then 
He  cuts  me  off  a  big  delicious  chunk  and  off  I 

run. 

My  uncle  is  a  widower  and  buys  the  stuff  he  eats, 

And  my,  he  has  a  lot  of  dandy  unexpected  treats ; 

One  time  he  called  me  in  and  gave  me  fish  he'd 
learned  to  fry, 

With  mashed  potatoes,  cake  chock  full  of  nuts 
and  lemon  pie, 

With  oranges  and  lemonade  and  honey  dripping 
sweet, 

I  tell  you  I  felt  splendid  from  my  freckles  to  my 
feet; 

But  just  one  thing  was   missing  and   I   wasn't 
quite  at  ease 

Till  Uncle  said,  "My  goodness !  Why  I  clean  for- 
got the  cheese." 

45 


"Our  cheese  is  done," 

I  say  to  Uncle  Ben, 
"Ours  is  just  begun," 

He  says  to  me  and  then 

He  cuts  me  off  a  yellow  tender  chunk  and  off  I 
run. 


46 


WELCOME  HOME. 

When  you  hear,  loud    and    clear,    on    a    sleepy 

afternoon, 
Such  a  noise  as  some  boys  very  numerous  might 

make, 
Whoops  and   cries,   large  in   size,   and  a  lively 

whistled  tune, 
Scampering  sounds,  leaps  and  bounds,  talk  of 

pie  and  johnny  cake; 
Then  the  fleet  dancing  beat  of  a  half  a  dozen 

feet, 
Mixed  with  bumps,  laughs  and  thumps,  joyous 

shrieks  and  yelps,  it's  plain 
You  will  say,  sure  as  day,  that  the  dog  has  gone 

to  greet 
In  the  hall  just  a  small  lively  boy  from  school 

again. 


47 


THE  FOLLOWERS. 

Who'er  has  watched  a  plowman  turning  over 
The  grassy    sod,    must    have    been    moved    to 

laughter 

To  see  from  fences,  poultry  yard  and  clover, 
Crows,  cowbirds,    chickens,    running    fluttering 

after. 

Each  diligently  searches  in  the  furrow, 
The  robins  near  the  plow,  wrens  at  a  distance ; 
A  chicken  takes  a  beetle  from  a  sparrow, 
But  not  without  its  mother's  kind  assistance. 

Serene  the  plowman  treads,  and  all  unknowing, 
His  only  care — to  judge  him  by  his  actions — 
Is  to  make  straight  the  way  the  plow  is  going : 
He  moves  unconscious  of  his  benefactions. 
I  think,  were  I  a  man,  I  would  not  yearn  to 
Adorn  the  platform,  parlor,  or  piano ; 
For  though  applause  is   sweet,   who  would  not 

turn  to 

The  living  earth  that  most  becomes  a  man?    Oh, 
How  good  to  plow  the  morning  soil  with  Dob- 
bin's 

Ungrudging  aid,  and  hear  the  children's  laughter 
As  wrens  and  bluebirds,  song  sparrows  and  rob- 
ins, 
Crows,  hens,  and  cowbirds,  fluttered  gayly  after. 


48 


A  BIG  BEDTIME. 

Once  there  was  a  mother  with  a  hundred  million 
children, 

And  when  she  said,  "It's  time  for  bed,  my  dears," 

They  all  of  them  would  sigh  and  answer  "By 
and  by," 

And  drive  their  parent  to  the  verge  of  tears. 

So  then  she  told  her  troubles  to  a  neighbor. 

"O  Mr.  Wind,  lend  me  your  rod,"  she  said; 

"I  really  hate  to  whip,"  she  owned  with  tremb- 
ling lip, 

"But  otherwise  they'd  never  go  to  bed." 

"Dear  Madam  Nature,  let  me  do  the  whipping," 
Said  Mr.  Wind,  "it's  fun;  do  let  me,  please." 
When  this  the  children  heard,  without  a  single 

word, 

They  scurried  off  to  bed  as  thick  as  bees. 
The  willing  ones  went  off  with  just  a  love-pat, 
The  stubborn  fellows  fought  and  came  to  grief. 
Then  down  came  the  sleet  and  a  splendid  snowy 

sheet, 
And  covered  up  each  little  naughty  leaf. 


49 


GOING  A-NUTTING. 

All  on  a  windy  morning  what  fun  to  go  a-nut- 

ting, 
To    get   the   poles   and  beat   the   boughs   until, 

like  popping  corn, 
The  nuts  come  dancing  downward,  the  chestnut 

prickles  shutting 
Their   hearts    in   velvet    linings    that    must    be 

bruised  or  torn  ; 

And  while  the  burrs  are  scattering, 
To  hear  the  squirrels  chattering, 
And  beechnuts  pittering,  pattering, 
All  on  a  windy  morn. 

All  on  a  windy  morning  to  pick  the  odorous  wal- 
nuts, 

And  beat  the  blackening  butternuts  on  highest 
branches  borne, 

While  both  the  babies  fill  their  fists  with  acorns, 
which  they  call  nuts, 

Until  there  comes  that  startling,  pleasing  sound, 
the  dinner  horn. 

And  then  they  throw  them  scattering, 

Like  beechnuts  pittering,  pattering, 

And  homeward  we  go  chattering, 

All  on  a  windy  morn. 


50 


THE  DRIVER.    / 

The  driver  whistled  as  he  awoke, 
And  he  drove  the  dust  like  a  cloud  of  smoke ; 
He  drove  the  clouds  like  a  flock  of  sheep, 
He  drove  the  leaves  in  a  hurrying  heap. 
He  whipped  the  hats  from  the  passers-by, 
And  tossed  them  up  till  they  seemed  to  fly. 
He  drove  the  rain  into  level  lines, 
And  roared  in  the  tops  of  the  tallest  pines. 
He  never  paused  in  his  greeting  rough, 
For  it  seemed  he  could  not  go  fast  enough. 
But  where  he  was  going  none  could  say, 
And  all  you  would  hear  if  you  went  that  way, 
Was,  "Oh,  what  a  dreadfully  windy  day!" 


51 


OUR  OLD  FRIEND. 

There's  a  pleasant  looking  fellow  living  miles  and 
miles  away, 

Yet  he  manages  to  come  and  see  us  nearly  every 
day. 

He'll  peep  in  at  the  keyhole  or  through  the  small- 
est crack, 

And  say,  "Good  morning,  children!  Aren't  you 
glad  to  see  me  back  ?" 

Then  he  glances  through  the  door,  and  he  laughs 
along  the  floor 

And  chases  to  the  cellar  all  the  shadows  big  and 
black. 

No  matter  where  he  shows  his  face  he  is  a  wel- 
come guest, 

He  always  wears  a  golden  coat  and  lovely  yellow 
vest. 

His  smile  is  broad  and  generous — bright  as  a 
field  of  corn, 

And  he  makes  you  feel  so  frolicsome  and  glad 
that  you  were  born. 

Now  when  you  have  guessed  his  name,  you  will 
praise  him  just  the  same, 

And  will  give  him  smile  for  smile  when  he  ap- 
pears tomorrow  morn. 


52 


WHEN  FATHER  IS  IT.  V 

When  it  rains  all  day  or  the  weather  is  rough, 

And  dull  in  the  house  we  sit, 
There  is  fun  to  be  had  playing  blind  man's  buff 

When  father  is  "It." 
We  tie  a  big  handkerchief  over  his  eyes. 

He  moves  very  quick  for  a  man  of  his  size, 
And  knows  where  we  are  by  our  laughter  and 
cries, 

When  father  is  "It." 

The  little  girls  creep  up  and  tickle  his  ear, 

When  father  is  "It." 

He  doesn't  quite  catch  them,  but  comes  pretty 
near, 

When  father  is  "It." 
They  pull  at  his  coat  tails,  he  gives  a  great  start, 

Then  spins  around  twice  and  is  off  like  a  dart. 
We   dive   'neath  his   fingers   with   loud-beating 
heart, 

When  father  is"It." 

He    whoops    and    he    prances,    he  capers  and 

bounds, 

When  father  is  "It." 
We're  a  set  of   wild  heathen,   to   judge  by  the 

sounds, 

When  father  is  "It." 

Tom  laughs  till  he  has  to  lie  down  on  the  floor, 
And  Archie  and  Joe — you  should  just  hear 

them  roar, 

For  we  feel  that  we  simply  can't  stand  any  more 
When  father  is  "It." 


53 


THE  BABY'S  PHOTOGRAPH. 

That's  the  baby's  photograph, 
Most  as  big  as  Grace  herself. 
See  it  up  there  on  the  shelf  ? 
Dimpled  face  all  one  broad  laugh. 
Not  a  sniggle,  nor  a  giggle, 
Nor  the  least  self-conscious  wriggle, 
But  as  if  a  laugh  should  start 
From  the  center  of  the  heart. 
Ah,  ha,  ha !  and  Oh,  ho,  ho ! 
Shaking  her  from  top  to  toe. 
Well,  when  I  feel  mean  as  sin 
I  look  up  and  catch  that  grin, 
And  of  course  I'm  smiling  too ; 
Can't  look  at  it  and  feel  blue. 
Neither  can  her  ma  look  sad, 
When  that  little  face,  as  glad 
As  the  sunshine,  cheers  the  room, 
Driving  off  the  air  of  gloom. 
Even  little  Grace  herself 
Points  up  to  the  chimney  shelf 
When  she  cries,  and  wipes  her  eyes, 
Says,  "Dat's  me,"  in  some  surprise. 
Then  with  a  reflected  laugh 
Greets  her  merry  photograph. 
'Twasn't  much  to  get  her  taken, 
But — well,  I  should  feel  forsaken 
If  we  missed  that  bubbling  laugh 
On  our  baby's  photograph. 


54 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE 

A  dear  little  bird  flew  in  the  woodshed, 
Chilly  and  hungry  and  looking  for  bread. 
And  one  moment  later  the  door  opened  wide, 
And  I  sauntered  in  with  the  cat  at  my  side. 
In  a  frenzy  of  fright  the  little  thing  flew, 
When  what  did  that  terrible  kitty  cat  do 
But  pounce  on  the  bird.     I  pounced  on  the  cat, 
And  then  just  as  quickly  as  you  could  say  scat, 
Took  the  bird  from  the  cat's  mouth  and  let  it  go 

free; 
It  lit  on  a  fence  and  remarked,  "Twee-dee." 

My  little  Twee-dee,  you  will  have  to  look  out. 

You  can't  expect  Me  to  be  always  about 

When  cats  are  around.      Yes,  I'll  get  you  some 

bread, 
But  remember  in  future  keep  out  of  the  shed. 


55 


THE  FIVE  PAIR  OF  TWINS. 


Polly,  Polly,  Polly,  tell  the  five  pair  of  twins, — 

The  tiny  scraps  of  small  ones, 

The  thin  and  toppling  tall  ones, 

The  cunningly-devised  ones, 

The  four  just  middling-sized  ones, — 

We're  going  to  have  a  candy  pull — 

Tonight  the  fun  begins — 
So  Polly,  Polly,  Polly  tell  the  five  pair  of  twins 


Polly,  Polly,  Polly,  tell  the  five  pair  of  twins 

They  may  make  some  candy  dollies, 

Like  the  china  one  of  Mollie's, 

And  some  yellow  candy  kittens, 

And  a  pair  of  candy  mittens, 

And  a  lot  of  candy  fishes 

With  the  sweetest  set  of  fins, 
So  Polly,  Polly,  Polly,  tell  the  five  pair  of  twins. 


But  Polly,  Polly,  Polly,  if  the  five  pair  of  twins 

Go  swimming  in  molasses, 

Or  to  smearing  Grandma's  glasses, 

Or  to  setting  fire  to  paper, 

Or — well  any  other  caper, 

They'll  all  be  tied  together 

Till  they're  sorry  for  their  sins. 
So   Polly,  Polly,  Polly,  warn  the  five  pair  of 
twins. 


And  Polly,  Polly,  Polly,  when  the  five  pair  of 

twins 

And  the  children  of  our  neighbors 
Have  finished  with  their  labors, 
56 


While  without  the  sleet  is  pelting, 
And  within  the  candy's  melting, 
You  must  scrub  those  sticky  infants 
Till  they're  neat  as  jeweled  pins. 
Did  you  know  your  thumbs  and  fingers  were  the 
five  pair  of  twins  ? 


57 


THANKSGIVING. 

There  is  something  in  thanksgiving 

That  is  better  than  the  best 
Of  the  things  upon  the  table  or  the 

Most  successful  jest, 
Or  the  smell  of  lemon,  nutmeg, 

Summer  savory  and  cloves, 
Or  the  sound  of  fires  a-crackling 

In  the  newly  lighted  stoves. 

'Tis  the  soul  of  good  companionship  and  hospi- 
tality 

When  Grandpa  leads  the  people  out  and  says  so 
beamingly, 

"All  of  you  take  cheers 

Jest  anywheers, 

Set  by  and  lay  to!" 

It  isn't  perfect  grammar  or  cultivated  charm 

That  puts  that  look  in  Grandma's  eyes  when  she 
accepts  his  arm. 

There's  something  sad  and  long-ago-ish,  yet  so 
sweet,  so  sweet! 

The   children   and   grand-children    follow   them 
with  happy  feet. 

Then  all  of  us  are  standing  while  Grandpa's  say- 
ing grace, 

And  then  he  calls,  "Come  Polly,  Bessie,  Dick,  up 

here's  a  place. 

All  of  you  take  cheers  jest  anywheers, 
Set  by  and  lay  to!" 


58 


NO,  NO,  NOVEMBER. 

What  ho,  November ! 
Autumn  crowns  the  glowing  sphere, 
Winter's  grasp  is  full  of  cheer, 
You  between  them  sad  and  drear 
Bind  your  brows  with  leafage  sere, 

Saying,  "I  remember 
When  the  year  was  not  a  bier ;" 

Ah,  woe,  November! 

If  so.  November, 

Months  like  varying  moods  are  sent ; 
May  is  rapture,  June  content, 
Strength  is  with  October  blent, 
But  when  pale  Discouragement 

Tends  a  dying  ember, 
Weakly  bent  and  sorely  spent, 

Then  lo,  November! 

Yet,  O  November ! 
Red  and  gold  before  you  glow, 
Dazzling  near  you  shines  the  snow ; 
Grief  like  yours  is  brief,  and  so 
Think  not  that  with  you  I'll  go 

Sighing,  "I  remember!" 
Weeping  low  and  wailing ;  no, 

No,  no,  November ! 


59 


A  COUNTRY  GIRL'S  GIFTS. 

Among  the  country  fields  she  strives, 

Apart  from  lavish  living; 
And  yet  with  tireless  skill  contrives 

To  know  the  bliss  of  giving. 
The  home-made  gifts  that  from  her  hand 

Into  a  lengthening  list  pass, 
Would  make  the  dullest  understand 

The  joy  she  feels  at  Christmas. 
A  clover  pillow  and  a  fan 

Of  peacock  feathers  tinted ; 
A  woodland  cane — a  lame  old  man 

Of  it  somehow  had  hinted ; 
Some  candy  breathing  sassafras, 

Or  elderberry,  maybe, 
In  bag  of  bark  sewed  up  with  grass, 

To  cheer  the  neighbor's  baby. 
A  poppy-box  with  crimson  leaves 

Between  its  two  glass  covers ; 
A  rosej  ar  where  dead  summer  weaves 

A  spell  to  thrall  her  lovers ; 
A  birchen  book  of  ample  size 

For  valued  thought  or  sonnet  ; 
Along  its  margins  butterflies 

And  moths  are  pasted  on  it ; 
Ferns  fastened  singly  and  with  care, 

A  pictured  face  completing  ; 
A  maiden  framed  in  maidenhair — 

Their  delicacies  meeting; 
A  paper  cutter  off  the  tree 

Wind-felled  in  January 
But  why  go  on  ?  So  easily 

Love  makes  her  gifts  to  vary. 
To  give  from  out  our  wealth — or  waste — 

Imparts  some  joy  to  living;      , 
But  only  loving  hearts  can  taste 

The  luxury  of  giving. 


OUR  VALENTINES. 

We  sent  a  valentine  one  day 
To  our  dear  father  far  away. 
It  was  a  splendid  big  affair, 
Of  loves  and  doves  and  flowers  fair, 
Of  cupids,  roses,  hearts  and  lace, 
And  on  each  rose  you  saw  a  face — 
A  photograph  so  cute  and  wee 
Of  Rob  and  Lou  and  Babe  and  me. 
A  big  rose  made  the  thing  complete 
With  mother's  picture  smiling  sweet, 
And  verses ;  "Dear,  for  thee  we  pine ; 
Say,  wilt  thou  be  our  valentine?" 
Soon  came  the  answer,  thick  and  wide, 
And  thrillingly  we  looked  inside. 
'Twas  just  a  beauty,  strewn  with  lots 
And  piles  of  blue  for-get-me-nots. 
And  verses  too :  "Dear  loves  of  mine, 
I  sure  will  be  your  valentine, 
Your  love  is  sweeter  than  the  flowers 
That  perfume  all  the  summer  hours. 
Each  night  before  my  eyelids  close 
I  kiss  with  ardor  every  rose. 
Goodbye !  As  long  as  sunbeams  shine 
I'll  be  your  loving  valentine." 


61 


IN  FALLING  SNOW. 

The  snowy  flakes  are  falling 

On  roof  and  water  spout, 
I  hear  the  children  calling, 

"O  Ernest,  Ed,  come  out!" 
And  then  they  go  snow-balling 

With  merry  laugh  and  shout, 
While  Teddy  tumbles  sprawling, 

The  funny  little  trout! 
Now  here  is  Richie  hauling 

His  brother  young  and  stout, 
While  all  the  rest  are  mauling 

And  pulling  him  about. 
Oh,  dear,  what  joyous  squalling, 

What  happy-hearted  bawling, 
It  really  sounds  appalling, 

And  yet  I  have  no  doubt 
It's  better  far  than  crawling 

Around  the  fire  with  gout ! 


62 


GRACIE'S  VALENTINE. 

Little  Gracie  wrote  a  letter,  it  was  only  just  a 

line 
And  'twas  printed  very  neatly:   "Won't  you  be 

my  valentine?" 
With  a  heart 
And  a  dart 

And  a  Cupid  pink  and  smart, 
And  a  shower  of  doves  and  roses,  some  together, 

some  apart. 
These  were    only    colored    pictures,    cut    from 

plates,  you  understand, 
Smeared   with    mucilage   and   pounded   with   a 

moist  and  chubby  hand. 


Little  Gracie  in  her  letter  printed  neatly  as  be- 
fore, 

"To  the  very  sweetest  dolly  in  my  Uncle  Joseph's 

store:" 

With  an 'Oh!" 
Uncle  Joe, 

Laughing  loud  and  smiling  low, 

Pinned  the  note  upon  the   sweetest   dolly   in   a 
lovely  row. 

Pinned  another  note  that  said,  "Yes,  dear,  I'll  be 
your  valentine." 

Then  he  wrapped  it  up  in  paper  and  he  tied  it 
up  in  twine. 

Little  Gracie  was  at  supper  when  the  bell  went 

ting  a  ling, 

And  she  said,  "Why  there's  the  postman, 
Oh,  I  wonder  what  he'll  bring." 
Through  the  hall 
Pattered  small 

63 


Eager  feet  and  then  a  call, 

"Papa,  mamma,  Florence,  here's  the  dearest  val- 
entine of  all ; 

It's  that  lovely,  lovely  dolly  in  a  satin  dress — Oh, 
Oh, 

Isn't  she  as  sweet — as  sweet  as — most  as  sweet 
as  Uncle  Joe!" 


64 


A  LOVELY  TIME. 

When  I  was  a  girl  in  youth's  fair  clime 

All  my  thought  was  "a  lovely  time." 

A  perfectly  lovely  time  indeed 

Was  the  length  and  the  depth  and  the  height  of 

my  need. 

I  said,  I  will  work  and  think  and  plan 
To  have  just  as  good  a  time  as  I  can; 
And  life  shall  be,  when  I  come  to  my  prime, 
That  grand,  sweet  song  called  "A  Lovely  Time." 

Well  now  with  my  love  for  my  brothers  four, 
My  sisters  and  parents  and  neighbors  a  score, 
My  friends  who  number  a  hundred  and  three, 
And  my  own  adorable  family, 
My  love  for  my  baby,  my  love  for  my  home, 
My  love  for  all  lovers  wherever  they  roam, 
My  busy  life,  like  a  silver  chime, 
Is  a  lovely  tune  to  a  lovely  time. 


65 


-1BEnATMBM 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


PS3545.E9T7  1921 


3  2106  00215  3952 


